


Mountain State

by anemicaxolotl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: (not necessarily in a bad way but just to be safe), Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicaxolotl/pseuds/anemicaxolotl
Summary: Abed's grip on the phone tightens, like he already knows what Britta is going to say next.Abed, he's back. Troy came home.MUSIC CUE: "DON'T PANIC" BY COLDPLAYOr: the Garden State homage no one asked for.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 26
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The angsty indie-movie-inspired Trobed reunion fic no one asked for. All the major relevant plot points of Zach Braff's 2004 Sundance darling _Garden State_ with none of the problematic elements of early-aughts movies.

When he wakes from his nightmare, it’s not with any cinematic gasp or anguished thrashing. He just opens his eyes like he does every day, flat on his back and gazing at the ceiling fan swirling lazily over his head. He’s no stranger to nightmares, although his typical bad dreams are all storms and shipwrecks, or pirates and zombies. A plane crash dream is enough of a departure from the norm to feel like it could be symbolic of something, though he doesn’t put much stock in signs from the universe these days.

Then he reaches for his phone, charging on his otherwise empty bedside table, and sees he has one new voicemail, and that’s starting to feel like an even stronger symbol of something amiss in the delicate fabric of reality. He sits up to listen to the message.

_Abed? It’s Britta. Sorry, I know it’s super late and you’re probably asleep already. Hope everything’s good with you! We were all bummed you missed last week’s Skype call…again. But I guess you’re just super busy being awesome in Hollywood, right? Ha. Uh, anyway. I know it’s late but if you get this message, can you call me back, like, as soon as you get it? Something really crazy just happened, and, well…_

There’s some shuffling in the background, and then a few muffled voices filter through the line, as if a handful of people are gathered in Britta’s apartment and speaking in hushed tones. Abed’s grip on the phone tightens, like he already knows what Britta is going to say next.

_Abed, he’s back. Troy came home._

MUSIC CUE: “DON’T PANIC” BY COLDPLAY

Abed dozes on the flight and wakes up with a migraine, flinching at the grating whine of the pilot’s voice announcing their arrival at Denver International Airport.

It’s been way too long since Abed has been here, and it still feels as cursed and liminal as ever. He splashes water on his face in the restroom but barely recognizes the haunted face staring back at him in the mirror. It reminds him of the way he looked so many years ago, adjusting to his new way of life, trying to figure out how he fit in his skin without his other half to keep him in place. Clone Abed. The empty eyes and stiff expressions, just like a low-budget sci-fi movie.

His Uber drops him off in front of an apartment building so familiar it feels like a punch to the gut just to see it. He should’ve booked an earlier flight. 303’s window is open, and even from the street, he can hear thumping music and shouts of laughter, the sounds of a party already in full swing.

He makes his way reluctantly up the stairs – they never did get rid of that brick – and lets himself in, as if he still belongs there, like he never left.

_“Abed in the hooouse!”_

Britta’s voice cuts through the din of the party the moment he steps inside, and suddenly it feels like every face in the room has turned to his. He lifts a hand in greeting as cries of “It’s Abed!” and “Welcome back, Hollywood!” echo around him.

Annie reaches him first, throwing her arms around him and gently easing the bag from his hand. “Oh, I missed you!” she cries, tugging on his arm and leading him toward what was once her bedroom. “I just got in this morning but we decided I would crash in Britta’s room for the weekend. We figured you’d be better off in this room, it might be easier than…”

She trails off and swallows nervously. “Oh, I’m already screwing this up, aren’t I?”

“You’re fine, Annie.” Abed glances around the room, devoid of teddy bears or frilly curtains or any indication that Annie had ever lived there. Britta has been subletting the rooms on a rotating basis, and mercifully, the room is currently unoccupied. He doesn’t want to think about where he’d be sleeping if both rooms were taken, what kind of haunted spaces he would have to reanimate tonight.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s spun around and pulled into a crushing hug. “It’s good to see you, man,” Jeff says, his voice thick with emotion. “You gotta stop disappearing on us, alright?”

“Yes,” Shirley adds as she pulls Abed into a hug. “We can only call in favors with Annie so many times before it starts getting suspicious.”

“I have _never_ abused my security clearance to track your whereabouts, for the record,” Annie adds, rolling her eyes fondly and leading Abed back into the living room.

The party is an eclectic mix of Greendale’s finest, past and present – students they’d taken classes with who stayed local after graduation, Jeff’s new colleagues, plus Frankie, Chang, and Dean Pelton, who immediately reminds Abed to call him Craig. His reunion with them is sweeter than he anticipated, and he wonders if maybe he should be making more of an effort to keep up with everybody.

“So am I ever going to get to meet the elusive, illustrious Troy Barnes?” Frankie asks at one point, and Abed freezes, untangling himself from Britta’s arms.

“Wait, he’s not here yet?” he asks.

He doesn’t miss the glances exchanged between his friends, though he can’t be bothered to guess what they mean.

“Troy is catching up with his high school friends tonight,” Annie says lightly. “At, uh, Pierce’s mansion. Which is his mansion, now.”

“What?” Abed glances at Jeff, who nods grimly. “Why are we having this party if he’s not even coming?”

“Well, we still wanted to see everyone!” Britta hedges. “I mean, it’s been forever since we were all together. And, to be fair…”

She glances at Annie for help, who says to Abed in her sweetly condescending voice, “To be fair, Abed…we couldn’t be sure you would actually show up.”

He shouldn’t be surprised, because Annie’s right – it’s not like he’s exactly been dependable lately. But the words still send a cold shock through his system. He’d never been like this at Greendale: inconsistent, unreliable. He winces in apology before slipping into the kitchen to grab himself a drink – something else he hadn’t done often at Greendale, but, well, that’s clearly not the only thing that’s changed.

Eventually Jeff joins him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside him, mercifully keeping his eyes on the party in the next room instead of on Abed himself. “Have you seen your dad yet?”

“I literally just got off a plane, Jeff.”

“You should go see him.” Jeff takes a sip of his scotch. “He asks about you all the time. He misses you.”

Abed turns his head at that. “You’ve seen my dad?”

“Oh, yeah. Britta and I go get falafel, like, twice a month at _least_. We finally convinced him to stop trying to give us the family discount.”

“There’s no family discount at my dad’s shop.”

“Well, maybe not for _you_ , you don’t even call the guy,” Jeff scoffs, but then he turns and smiles. “Seriously, man. Go see him while you’re home. There will be plenty of time to catch up with Troy eventually.”

 _What if there’s not, though?_ Abed shifts his beer from one hand to the other. “Cool,” he mutters. “Cool, cool, cool.”

MUSIC CUE: “CARING IS CREEPY” BY THE SHINS

A couple hours and at least as many drinks later, it occurs to Abed that if Britta’s been living in apartment 303 this whole time, it stands to reason that whatever crap he left behind when he moved to LA should still be here. Or at least whatever crap Britta hadn’t seen fit to throw away.

He slips away from a conversation with Frankie, Duncan, Shirley and Neil and creeps into Britta’s bedroom, which was formerly his bedroom, previously Troy’s bedroom, previously – something like a linen closet. It holds no trace of magic in it now, just Britta’s rickety bedframe, a secondhand desk, books stacked against the wall and a cat castle in the corner.

He opens the closet door and kneels down, digging through the mess of fallen shirts and clothes hangers until his hands start hitting plastic. Figurines, DVD cases, costume components and other collectibles are revealed little by little as he unearths what feels like remnants of a past life. He’s not too surprised to see Britta has probably sold some of what he’s left behind – Inspector Spacetime figurines he’d had duplicates of, DVDs with the plastic wrap still on.

But she kept all of his original work. The thought of it is nearly enough to stir him to emotion as he picks up the clear plastic CD cases, each one carefully labeled by title or subject with Sharpie – _Finals Studying Montage. Birds of Greendale Documentary. Pre-Graduation Interviews. Kickpuncher Homage._

That last one almost jolts his heartbeat into a frantic pounding, but he pushes it aside for now. There’s something missing, something he can’t imagine she would have sold or thrown away, but it’s definitely not in the closet, not even when he frantically reaches for the corner where the carpet has started to peel up, as if it might’ve slipped underneath it somehow.

As he’s searching, he hears Britta clear her throat from the doorway behind him, and he can’t find it in him to muster up even the façade of shame.

“Britta, you know all that stuff I left behind? What did you do with it?”

“Like your DVDs and stuff? It’s all right where you left it. Most of it I didn’t even touch.”

“So you touched some of it, then? Because some of it is missing.”

Britta shifts to the side, taking a long sip of beer and avoiding Abed’s gaze. “Hmm?” she says finally. “Oh, uh, I might have…maybe sifted through some of it. For, uh, rent money.”

 _“Britta.”_ Abed stands up. “Please don’t tell me this means what I think it means.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“You sold it, didn’t you?”

“Well, you said you didn’t want _any_ of it!” Britta puts her beer on the desk and throws her hands up, dropping all pretense. “What, I’m just supposed to read your mind and know that’s code for ‘I don’t want it, but I don’t want you getting rid of it’?”

Abed pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Why _that_ one, Britta? What value would that have possibly had for anyone else that made you think it was worth it to sell? Do you realize this is going to turn into one of those indie films where I end up on a wild chase across the county to get back a stupid going-away present?”

Britta stares at him and then shrugs helplessly, totally at a loss. Abed pushes past her and heads into the kitchen, where Jeff is chatting with Annie. “All good, Radar?” he asks.

Abed ignores him and lines up three shot glasses, fills them with vodka, and hands them off to Annie and Jeff, who stare at him wide-eyed.

“Na zdrowie,” he says quietly.

Annie shoots a worried look at Jeff, who merely raises his glass and echoes Abed’s words before downing the shot with ease.

Shrugging, Annie clinks her glass against Abed’s, and the two drink together. Abed shakes his head.

“This weekend just got a lot more complicated,” he says, pouring himself another shot and tossing that back, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in this chapter for general partying/drinking/drug mentions

The worst part about hosting a party, Troy realizes, is that you can’t just leave when you’re over it.

And this is nothing like the apartment-warming party he’d thrown back in college, with pizza and Yahtzee and spontaneous dancing with his best friends. This is a _party_ party, straight out of a teen summer comedy, even though everyone here is way too old for that.

But it’s everyone he went to high school with, here at Hawthorne Manor, and it _feels_ like a high school party. Some guys are even still wearing their varsity jackets, which, at 26, Troy thinks is a little embarrassing.

They all seem happy to see him, though. “T-Bone!” everyone yells as they pour through the door, throwing their arms around him and jabbing friendly punches his way. He hasn’t been around this much frat-boy energy since he had rushed that one time back at Greendale, and it’s already nauseating. 

But his mom had insisted he couldn’t be alone in this big old creepy mansion by himself.

“You’ve only been back one night,” she had reminded him. “Why don’t you stay here? Or go back to Britta’s apartment?”

But none of those options had seemed appealing. Go back to his mom’s apartment, the one she moved into when his family had fallen apart? Or go see his Greendale friends again after Jeff and Britta had been so stiff and awkward around him last night, as if they were on small-talk terms and not I-nearly-died-in-a-cult-for-you terms? 

Instead he had called his friend Dominic. “I’m rich and own a mansion now,” he’d said. “Party at my place tonight. Tell everyone.”

And so everyone came.

For three years, everything Troy owned traveled with him in one backpack and one red duffel bag, and all of that is stowed away in what was his old bedroom when he lived here with Pierce. He feels no connection to the rest of the belongings in this house, so he feels nothing when his old friends start fucking around, juggling expensive vases and messing around in Pierce’s secret gym (which Troy is _well_ aware of these days, no thanks to his friends from Greendale, who’d let him live in embarrassing, ignorant bliss for far too long).

He doesn’t care if these people break shit here. It barely felt like his home when he lived here for a year, and it certainly doesn’t feel like home now.

He checks his phone all night, but it’s flooded with Snapchats from people who are at the party he’s throwing, as Riverside’s former best and brightest slam down shots and attempt keg stands and do drugs in the corner. One of his old linebackers points to him and yells “This one’s for you, T-Bone!” before attempting a keg flip and landing with an unpleasant-sounding _thump_ on the floor.

“Some party, huh?”

His friend Dominic slings an arm around Troy’s shoulder, their buddy Erik in tow. Troy nods at him in greeting, and Erik just shakes his head with a smirk.

“You go to community college and no one hears from you for four years, then you vanish off the face of the earth for another three, and then out of nowhere you come back 14 million dollars richer and, what, throw yourself a welcome-home party with the whole town?" He grins, a sharp glint behind the mirth. “What’s the catch, Barnes? You pay for your friends now?”

Troy rolls his eyes as Dominic pats him on the shoulder. “Hey, hey, take that as a compliment,” Dominic mutters, pulling him through the kitchen into what looks like a game room. “Just ignore him, you don’t have to listen to anything anyone says anymore if you don’t want. You can pay a bouncer to just get rid of anyone who pisses you off.”

Troy laughs halfheartedly as Dominic pulls him into a circle of people Troy barely recognizes, all gathered around an empty vodka bottle on the floor.

“Troy, you remember Jared, Nick, Logan?” Dominic points vaguely around the circle before turning his attention more keenly to the girls in the group. “And here we have Noelle, Alexa, Dani, and Karly. They're Riverside High graduates too. Recent graduates," he adds with a wink. "We’re going to play Spin the Bottle.”

Troy rolls his eyes. “Spin the Bottle? Come on, how old are we? And more importantly, how old are _they?”_

“Relax, T-Bone, they’re all legal.” Dominic just grins and reaches for the vodka bottle, giving it a spin until it lands on the girl named Dani, who shrieks with laughter.

“Just like old times, right, Barnes?” Grinning at Troy, Dominic leans across the circle and kisses Dani deeply until the rest of the circle “ooohs” around them, like teenagers.

MUSIC CUE: “IN THE WAITING LINE” BY ZERO 7 FT. SOPHIE BARKER

Troy leans back and takes a sip of his drink, rolling his eyes again. Britta had texted him four times earlier that day, insisting that he could stop by at any time if he changed his mind about hosting his own party – _apartment 303 is always ur home, troy!!!! –_ and part of him regrets not taking her up on the offer.

But a deeper part of him dreads the possibilities that await him if he goes back there tonight – and the chance that what he wants most isn’t waiting there at all. 

Even after Britta had called Shirley and Annie to tell them to _get on a flight ASAP, Troy is home,_ she hadn’t mentioned Abed’s name once. Only Jeff had finally made an offhand comment about him living in California now, but by the sound of it, Troy really has no idea if anyone even hears from him anymore. 

At this point it’s much easier to stay here, get drunk, turn down offers of weed and coke, and watch his friends make out with girls way too young for them. He feels like he's frozen in time while the party swirls around him in a fast-forwarded haze of motion.

He's not sure how long he sits there in silence until Dominic smacks his arm.

“Uh, Troy? Your lady awaits,” he says with a smirk, gesturing at the girl Troy is pretty sure is named Noelle. She’s kneeling and leaning toward him, the bottle pointed squarely at him.

“What? Oh, no,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “Thanks anyway, but I’m gay. And also way too old for this game.”

The chatter around the circle stops as everyone turns to stare at him.

“You’re _gay?”_ Nick asks. Troy is pretty sure he had been the kicker on the team at Riverside, or maybe the second-string kicker. Definitely not one of Troy’s closest friends in high school, and definitely not anyone with the authority to comment on his sexuality like it was something to question.

“Yeah,” Troy says firmly, glancing around the circle and daring anyone else to make a comment. “I’m gay. I’m not into girls. I’m also not really into high school party games, either, so…you guys have fun.”

He nods awkwardly as he climbs to his feet, and most conversation picks back up around the circle like nothing had happened.

Troy heads to the kitchen to refill his drink, downing half of it in one go before topping it off again. He wonders how hard it is for these people to reconcile Troy the Wonder Boy with the gay, eccentric millionaire he spent the last three years becoming. Well, maybe not _eccentric_ yet. He wonders what it would take to earn that title - a bat cave under Hawthorne Manor, maybe? 

Honestly, it’s not his worst idea. 

He shakes his head and opens Snapchat on his phone, taking a stupid selfie with his tongue hanging out and his drink next to his face. He writes, **Guess what??? Riverside still sucks!!!** over the picture before sending it to Annie.

A minute later his phone buzzes with a response. It’s a video. Underneath the words **DUH-DOY** scrawled on top of the screen, he sees Shirley, Jeff and Britta crowding over Annie’s shoulder. Annie is yelling into the camera, “That’s why you should be _here,_ dummy!”

It makes him smile, but it comes with the sharp sting of only seeing four of his friends there. He watches the video loop again and again, straining to catch even a glimpse of flannel somewhere in the background, or the striped sleeve of a cardigan, but nothing jumps out at him. 

Either Abed is carefully holding himself just out of frame, or he isn’t there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene is marginally cooler looking in the movie but alas here it exists solely a filler chapter and for troy to slowly lean in to the idea of being an eccentric gay millionaire as he deserves <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some mild medical/doctor content in this chapter

Abed takes Jeff’s advice the next morning and goes to see his dad.

Gobi holds him at arm’s length, literally, when he gets to the door, looking his son up and down before a strange look settles on his face. Abed thinks it might be pride.

“Look at you,” Gobi says, finally pulling Abed in for a hug. “You look…grown-up. You look good. LA looks good on you.”

“I like it there,” Abed admits, following his father into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table across from him. He accepts a cup of coffee gratefully, trying to hide the way he winces and rubs his head.

“Your friend Britta kept you out too late last night, didn’t she?” Gobi shakes his head and scoffs, but it seems good-natured. “That better not be a hangover.”

“No, it’s not that.” Abed squeezes his eyes shut for a second until the stab of pain passes. “I’ve been getting those headaches again.”

“Your migraines are back?”

Abed takes a sip of coffee to stall. “I don’t think they’re that bad this time, just…”

Gobi doesn’t let him lie. “Why don’t you see Dr. Curtis while you’re home? Just a five-minute visit,” he adds sharply when he sees Abed is about to protest. “You’re grown now, Abed. You can do this.”

Gripping his mug tightly to stave off the wave of nausea threatening to take him over, Abed nods. The good thing is, while he still hates the thought of going to the doctor, it doesn’t spark quite the same level of panic in his chest as it once did. That’s the one upside to growing increasingly numb over the past few months; it’s taken some of the fight out of him.

So later that day he finds himself in a waiting room, pulling on his headphones and knocking his heel against the leg of a chair. It’s the best he can do for now: just put up with the stark white walls and fluorescent lighting, throw on an indie soundtrack, and hope to drown out the endless, inane chatter from the sign-in desk. For a while it’s enough.

And then it’s not, because a man walks in, hands in his pocket, looking uncertain as he makes his way up to the front desk. 

And sure, the man is good looking, and yeah, he’s well dressed, but that’s not what strikes Abed. It’s the posture, which is familiar to him. It’s the gentle voice, which Abed would recognize anywhere. And it’s the smile he gives the receptionist – a smile that’s been lingering like a fever dream in the back of Abed’s mind since he first saw it nearly eight years ago.

He takes a clipboard from the receptionist and sits down across from the desk to fill out his paperwork, and he shakes his leg up and down as he reads the questionnaire, and Abed can’t keep staring at him from across the room like he’s a stranger who stumbled into this urgent care office by sheer happenstance. 

It’s been three years since he last saw him, but Abed knows with all the certainty of his soul that the man in front of him is Troy.

Abed curses in his head and holds himself very still, as if any sudden movement would suddenly alert Troy to his presence. This wasn't supposed to _happen_ this way. Annie's planning had been meticulous, as always: shortly after lunch, she would arrange for the remaining Greendale Seven to gather at apartment 303 while Britta informed Troy that Abed had made it to Colorado, after all. The event would be carefully monitored for any signs of emotional turmoil, and most importantly, Abed would have time to prepare to see Troy again.

Now he was here, a daydream in a Hawaiian shirt, looking like he'd be more at home in Santa Monica than Greendale. 

He hasn’t seen Abed yet, and Abed doesn’t know what to do. Hide until the nurse calls him back? And then what, when Troy hears the name “Abed”? Wait for his reaction? Bolt before he gets a chance to see hurt, or excitement, or worse, total indifference in Troy’s eyes? 

His mouth finally tells his brain how to react. “Troy?” he calls across the room quietly as he pulls his headphones down.

Troy looks up, startled. His eyes land on Abed, and then widen with disbelief. “Abed?” he cries, his clipboard clattering to the ground. 

Before the receptionists can react to the sudden clamor, Abed jumps up and crosses the room, grabbing the clipboard and handing it back to Troy. He abandons it on the table next to him and reaches for Abed’s hands. “Abed, buddy, what are you doing here?”

“I’m–” Abed swallows. “Like, _here_ here, or Colorado here? I’m in Colorado to see you.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t you ask Britta to call me?”

“What? No! I honestly didn't know if she still talked to you. Everyone said that lately you’ve been kind of…I mean. I don’t know.” Troy looks dazed. “I guess I should have realized someone would have told you I was back.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Abed says dryly, pulling his hands away from Troy, who immediately looks crushed. 

_“Abed._ No. I didn’t mean it like that at all, I just…” Troy runs a hand over his face. He’s got the shadow of a beard now, and he looks so good Abed can barely keep his thoughts straight. He wants to run a hand over Troy’s cheek just to see what it feels like. He wants to get out of this office and collect himself before he does or says something embarrassing.

It's been three years, he reminds himself, _three years_ without a word from Troy. He can't forget that, can't let himself get swept up in the sheer amazement of seeing him in person again, alive, vibrant, looking so different and yet so much like himself that it hurts. 

“I just can’t believe I’m really seeing you after all this time,” Troy says finally. “We have so much to…” He trails off and frowns. “Wait, why are you _here_ here, though? At the doctor?”

“Headaches,” Abed says flatly. “I get them sometimes when I fly. You?”

“Uh…” Troy shifts awkwardly. “This is kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been like, crazy sick since I got back home. Really dizzy and stuff. I think it’s from being on the boat for so long. Maybe I need to get the opposite of my sea legs back.”

“Your land legs?” Abed arches an eyebrow. “It could just be altitude sickness, you know. You haven’t been here in years.”

Troy’s eyes widen at that, and he nods slowly. “Man, you’ve always been so smart,” he says wistfully, and something inside Abed softens. He falls into the seat beside Troy, who picks up the clipboard and bites at the skin around his thumbnail.

“I hate doctors,” he mutters. “I had to see _so many_ after the whole – well, I’ll tell you about that later, I guess.” He glances almost shyly at Abed.

God, he has no idea what Troy is thinking right now. They’re so off their rhythm that suddenly Abed is feeling just as dizzy and off-balance as Troy claims to be. Before he can get stuck on that thought, he pulls his headphones off and offers them to Troy. 

“Will this help?” he asks. “I have it on an indie soundtrack, which probably explains why this whole thing has such a meet-cute vibe right now.”

Troy glances down at his clipboard and then back to Abed before accepting the headphones gratefully. “Thanks,” he says softly, and for the first time in three years he turns that brilliant smile of his in Abed’s direction. Abed glances down just to keep from being blinded, fiddling with the volume on his iPod.

MUSIC CUE: “NEW SLANG” BY THE SHINS

“Abed Nadir?”

He jumps to his feet and looks back at Troy, who halfheartedly moves to pull the headphones off. 

“Keep them,” Abed says without thinking. “I’ll get them back from you later.”

“Okay. And, uh, Abed?” Troy bites his lip. “Do you think maybe we could wait for each other after our appointments? It’s just...we have so much to talk about. And I really need to explain why I didn’t call you when I got back. I think I owe you that.”

Abed glances at the nurse smiling patiently at him from the doorway, and then he turns back to Troy. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Before Troy can respond, Abed turns and walks over to the nurse, who leads him down the hall. His heart is pounding in his ears so loudly he can barely hear her protests as he lets himself into an exam room, flips the lights off, and blocks the doorway. 

“I need you to tell the doctor I think I’m having a panic attack and need to sit here in the dark without interruption for at least fifteen minutes before anyone can come talk to me,” Abed says calmly before shutting the door in the nurse’s face. He sinks to the floor, his back pressed against the wall, dropping his head into his hands and trying to steady his breathing as he fights to keep himself from shattering.

So much for being numb.

The headaches turn out to be from a combination of mild dehydration and lack of sleep, which shocks Abed not in the least: he never remembers to drink enough water when traveling and knows his frequent nightmares keep him up at night. He still thanks the doctor stiffly and heads outside, opting to lean against the brick wall of the urgent care center rather than wait another minute under the harsh fluorescent bulbs.

Mild panic attack notwithstanding, Abed is oddly proud of himself for not completely falling to pieces after his unexpected reunion. _He_ was the one comforting _Troy_ in there, after all, not the other way around - a huge win, by any standard. Maybe his time in LA really has helped him grow up into a mature, capable adult. 

Or, Abed thinks, it’s possible he’s just in shock, with no blankets or styrofoam cups of water to soothe him.

It would be the universe’s idea of a cruel joke if Abed were having another breakdown _now,_ when his career in LA is gaining upward momentum and he’s finally, _finally_ gotten his wild emotionality under control. (Even if he’s had to put practice into being numb. Even if it sometimes makes him seem cold.)

His life is so solid now, running perfectly parallel to his friends’ instead of being codependently intertwined. But that’s always been the power of Troy: most of Abed’s worst breaks from reality happened because of him.

 _Not anymore,_ Abed fights back, if only against the voice in his own head. _No more stop motion, no bonesaws, no lava. Troy left and you survived. You’re beyond that now._

Then why does he have the strange feeling he’s living in an indie film?

Although that would be one of his more relevant and entertaining breakdowns, he’s pretty sure that’s not what’s actually happening here. There have been no closeups or quirky camera angles, no grayscale filters, no on-the-nose music cues except the ones coming from his own playlists. 

Running into Troy in public like this is just a bizarre coincidence, nothing more - if anything, it’s only a stronger sign that the universe bends toward chaos, not patterns or order. He doesn’t need to read anything else into it. And he doesn’t need to let the serendipity of their reunion influence the way he feels about Troy, or how long it’s going to take to forgive him, if he can bring himself to forgive him at all.

He realizes that since Troy still has his headphones, he really will have to wait here and see him again. He's not sure if the feeling that brings him is relief or regret. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr @ slutabed probably still yelling about geothermal escapism and *squints at smudged writing on hand* whatever other episodes there are.


End file.
